Final Report
by bStormhands
Summary: Rick Dicker's incident report on Stratogale. Trigger warning: discussion of injuries.


Final Report

Rick gave the door to the windowless conference room a bump with his shoulder to open it more easily. He saw the National Supers Agency Director sitting at the head of the table.

The director was wearing his customary dark suit and tie, with crisply starched collar and handkerchief in the breast pocket. The former military officer still sported a micrometer precise buzzcut. His eyes were dark as they flicked to the report in his hand.

The door closed solidly with a muffled thud.

Rick walked across the dark green carpet to the seat at the end of the table. He also noted the presence of the Assistant Director. She was tough and hard-bitten like a mama wolf. Her sleeves were rolled up as they often were.

"Report, Agent Dicker." Came the voice of the director as he sat and placed the thin manila folder on the dark wood table.

Under the harsh fluorescent lights the black strikes of the typewriter seemed to recede into the bright white paper.

"Final report on Stratogale aka Jill Fredricksen. Flight 103 a 707 out of San Fransisco climbing to 39,800 feet when the airliner suffered a catastrophic loss of hydraulic fluid when engine #2 suffered a failure. Stratogale was flying nearby and responded." Began Rick in his typical unflappable voice.

"Of course she was. She spent all her free time up in the sky." Said the assistant director.

"She used her powers to help the plane level out at 8,950 feet. Witnesses report her flying in front of the crippled engine and being sucked in."

"Why didn't the pilots shut down that engine?" asked the assistant director in her deep voice.

"The pilots had limited control of the aircraft at that time. The engine was burning hydraulic fluid rather than fuel at that time. Stratogale's destruction of the engine actually allowed the pilot more control over the aircraft which allowed them to make a semi-controlled landing."

"Semi-controlled?" There was a note of sarcasm in the assistant director's voice. "The news describe the plane as cartwheeling down the runway. Killed dozens of people."

"Only 24% of the people on that aircraft were killed."

"Only…"

"Continue the report, Agent Dicker." Ordered the Director.

"Yes, sir. The autopsy shows that Stratogale's neck sustained significant injury before her cape separated from her suit once the tension overcame the release mechanism."

"Um, what does that mean?" asked the assistant director.

"It means the cape came free as designed before she was strangled as it wrapped around the drive shaft of the turbine."

"Oh, so she was chopped into hamburger instead of being strangled to death."

"No, she wasn't." Rick stated flatly.

"Wait. What? She was sucked into a jet engine. It should have shredded her into a red mist."

Rick shook his head. "The engine was not at power and was already damaged. Her suit was made of Megamesh. Megamesh is fire, bullet and knife resistant. The suit was quite able to keep the turbine blades from cutting her. From the injury patterns, her right hand entered the engine first. As her suit did not have gloves, owing to her needing bare hands to fly that hand was sliced off until the blades encounter the suit at her wrist and began breaking the bones of the wrist and arm."

"At least her head was uncovered, that would have killed her instantly." Said the assistant director hopefully. Everyone knew that Stratogale liked to show off her long brown hair.

"Had she not covered her head with her left arm that would have been true."

Even the Director blinked.

"Given the injury pattern of the autopsy she was sucked all the way through the engine shattering the turbine blades the whole way. Her hands were cut off, her head was slashed and most of the bones on her right side were broken but she was not necessarily fatally injured."

The eyes of the assistant director darted to the directors.

"Given the blood on her utility belt, it is likely she was trying to find a way to halt her descent. She was found in a farm's retention pond, where she drowned." Rick felt that she had aimed for the pond as a soft landing zone. Had the farmer been closer she may have been saved, but he kept that opinion to himself. Why did it feel like Stratogale was trying all the way down?

Because she was a superhero.

"I see." Said the Director. "Final arrangements?"

"Stratogale will be given a state funeral, closed casket. Various speakers from federal and state levels have been arranged. A body identified as Jill's will be discovered in about a week, a murder investigation will be launched. Jill will be interred in a quiet family ceremony overseen by our people." The NSA had several chaplains available covering most major denominations. They also had workers skilled in heavy machinery and manual labor. Both caskets would have only a couple of sandbags in them. He didn't know where the actual body was.

The assistant director nodded. "Poor kid. I'm sure with further training she would have been amazing. Why couldn't she just…."

Rick knew that Jill was not the kind of person to sit and wait when there were things to try, birds to talk to and clouds to play in. And she was a teenager, a certain amount of rebellion was to be expected.

That was one of the major problems of trying to handle a super. The heroes dove into the action to help. Even the super-villains took action. If cowards had powers how would they know?

Supers knew they could handle things, things normal people couldn't so most of them felt a desire, a need, to help. But sometimes the situation became more then they could handle and then it all came down to luck.

That's what his job and the whole NSA's job often came down to. Trying to manage another person's luck. They created training, procedures, equipment and more just to try to increase their super's luck so they might survive another day.

"Anything of interest in the autopsy report?" asked the Director.

Rick slowly turned several pages, keeping his eyes down. That was a question that kept coming up and not only from the director.

Rick stopped on the last page and rubbed it slightly between his fingers. "Stratogale's nerves appear to be several times thicker then a normal persons. There were several enlarged glands inside her body and her brain had some sections that were more densely packed then average."

"Nothing that obviously shows us what makes the supers, super?"

"I'm afraid not, sir." Said Dicker looking up from his paper. The director's eyes reflected nothing.

"Very well. Good work, Agent Dicker. You're excused." Said the director.

"Thank you, sir." Said Agent Dicker.

Rick stood and left the small conference room. He walked down the abstract patterned carpet and dropped the report off in secure storage before returning to his desk.

Rick looked around for a moment then turned off his stained glass desk lamp, flipped the overhead lights off and walked out of the windowless office.

They told him not to get too involved. Being a minder to a super was hard enough. Caring about them made it harder when something happened. If they weren't invulnerable you worried about what might kill them. If they were, you worried about how to kill them should they change sides.


End file.
